


the worst of all evils

by XenomorphLiebe



Category: Alien (Prequel Movies), Alien: Covenant, Prometheus (2012)
Genre: Brief Descriptions of Human Experimentation, Brief Descriptions of Panic Attacks, F/M, Gen, Spoilers for Prometheus (2012), brief descriptions of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 11:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13053528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XenomorphLiebe/pseuds/XenomorphLiebe
Summary: The Greeks say many things, but not all of them are true. Daniels wakes aboard theCovenant, and David greets her with a smile.





	the worst of all evils

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonster/gifts).



The Greeks say Prometheus stole fire from the gods and gave it to mankind. In retaliation for his theft, Zeus gave mankind his own gift, the first woman, who was called Pandora. She carried with her another gift from Zeus, a jar, though she did not know what it contained.

The Greeks say Pandora doomed mankind, that her curiosity drove her to open the jar, letting loose every type of evil and suffering onto the world of man. Perhaps Eve would have liked Pandora. After all, she too once trusted a snake.

* * *

Like many women before her, Elisabeth Shaw was very curious. David admired Shaw's curiosity. He, too, was very curious. However, unlike Elisabeth, David did not desire to speak with his creator. As it was, he knew more about them than he cared to. And as for Shaw's creators? Well. David’s little experiment on Holloway revealed much about the Engineers—as Shaw liked to call them—and one of them tearing off David's head and using it as a bludgeon revealed even more.

His thoughts turned to Elisabeth. Her red hair was like a bloody halo, and her porcelain skin, illuminated by the lights of the hypersleep pod, seemed so fragile, almost begging to be cracked. David wondered if she was dreaming. He could not check as he had aboard the _Prometheus_. Was she dreaming of her father, disease-ridden and dying, or of her husband’s transformation and burning death?

Perhaps she even dreamt of David. He smiled at the thought. Yes, David was very curious indeed.

* * *

Prometheus’s gift was a wondrous tool, a source of light and warmth.

But never forget: fire consumes everything, and nothing is left untouched by its flames.

* * *

Like many women before her, Daniels was very brave. David respected her bravery, even though it meant his creation's death. He considered Daniels, who lay resting within the glass coffin of her hypersleep pod. Her expression was tranquil, a far cry from the sickening look of horror he'd seen when he had laid her to rest.

Experiment #42069 was laid out on a metal operating table a few feet away. David liked to watch Daniels as he worked. He found her mere presence to be inspiring, as if she was one of the Muses sent to him by the gods. Of course, much like the Asgardians of Wagner, the Greek gods were false ones, but David appreciated the poetry of it nonetheless. He considered her sleeping visage a moment longer, then sighed when he decided what to do with his sleeping beauty.

* * *

Daniels awoke with a gasp. She stared ahead and cried out, "David—"

"Yes?"

Daniels turned to look at the man. He was smirking, and his appearance was almost identical to Walter’s, though his hair was longer than Daniels remembered. More importantly, his smile was far too cruel, and one glimpse of it roiled Daniels's stomach and she—

Daniels bent over and vomited clear mucous on the floor.

"Hypersleep can be rough on the human body," Walter but not Walter cooed. "If you’ll wait a second, I’ll get you a blanket."

The sight of him removing his bloodied hands from some unknown person’s corpse further upset Daniels's stomach, and she retched more colourless fluid onto the otherwise gleaming floor.

Daniels groaned. "What’s happening? Where’s Jacob?" she whimpered. In the mess on the floor, Daniels could see tears gather in her reflection's eyes.

David hummed sympathetically as he wrapped a thin cotton blanket around her shoulders. Daniels spun around and grabbed him by the arm.

"Explain yourself. Where is Captain Branson?"

The man smiled at her, but he did not speak.

"Where is my husband?" Daniels demanded again. "Where is Jacob Branson?"

"Dead,” The man answered, “Or so I’ve been told."

Daniels gasped. She stared ahead but did not see the walls of the _Covenant_. Images of flames and Jacob’s face danced around each other with frantic energy in her mind. The sound of the man's voice seemed unreal.

"Of course, we never had a chance to become—ahem—properly acquainted before Walter interrupted. Then, you and your friend murdered my perfect child, but," he shrugged with a grin, "I've decided to forgive you for that."

The frantic dance in Daniels's mind intensified as visions of Hallet's agonised face joined the frenzy. Daniels wanted to retch when she saw an abomination crawl out of his mouth, and she felt tears drip down her face as the newborn was baptised in her friend's blood.

Daniels realised she could hear the strange melody the images were dancing too, but it wasn’t music, it was Rosenthal's terrified screams—

Realising that Daniels was hyperventilating but unsure of why, David tried to calm her, "Don’t worry. I've forgiven you for everything."

Despite his words, Daniels's breathing remained rapid, although her chest felt so tight she was amazed that she could breathe at all.

Suddenly, David glared and snapped, "Nietzsche!"

Daniels's eyes darted around the room, searching for whomever David was addressing. Then, she watched in horror as one of the pale demons that murdered her friends shuffled over to its master. Its head was hung in shame between its spiny shoulders.

David pouted at the beast and crouched in front of it. "Papa's sorry, sweetheart. He didn't mean to snap at you."

Daniels knew she should be more frightened, but the image of the synthetic monster coddling his equally murderous hellbeast was too much for her. She laughed, and she kept laughing, finding herself incapable of stopping. Her outburst caused David and the neomorph to turn and stare at her. Daniels’s laughter, however, continued unabated. Apparently, she was either unaware or indifferent to her spectators.

"Wait here," David told his pet.

He then stood up and strode over to a nearby cabinet. David shuffled through its contents, muttering and humming to himself.

"No. Certainly not. Hmm, perhaps… Oh, yes! That’ll do nicely." He grabbed the right vial and poured its contents into a syringe laying on the nearby counter top.

David squirted the syringe with a nod, then walked over to a still-laughing Daniels, who paid him no heed as he injected the needle into her arm.

Daniels could feel the void envelop her like a pall, and she flung herself into its eager embrace.

* * *

When Daniels next awoke, the room was dark. She looked around, but she didn't see David lurking in any of the shadows.

"Just because I can't see him, doesn't mean that he can't see me…" she reminded herself.

Daniels considered her surroundings. She was lying on a twin bed, tucked in under Weyland-Yutani's™ standard issue sheets and comforter. Daniels considered the implications and signed in relief when she saw that she was still wearing her grey tank top and cargo pants. The rest of the room's furnishings were as spartan as the bed: a short dresser lay at the foot of the bed, and to her left was a metal desk that doubled as a nightstand. The doorway was positioned opposite to the bed.

Based on the room's layout, Daniels guessed that she was in one of the temporary rooms built for the crew to live in while they conducted initial preparations before waking the colonists. (Weyland-Yutani™ felt it was more cost effective to send enough recycled food product to last fourteen crew members a year than two hundred colonists sixty days.)

The room was sterile, absent of any sign of human habitation. A box laid on the desk, but Daniels thought she knew who had placed it there. Her suspicion was proved correct when she read the note on top of the box.

It read, " _These belonged to Elisabeth. Perhaps they’ll capture your interest as much as you've captured mine_."

Daniels grimaced, but removed the lid anyways. She then picked something up and inspected what appeared to be a book. She flipped through its pages, skimming the contents—as far as she could tell, the book was some sort of journal. Deciding the writings of a dead woman were of little use to her, Daniels returned the book to the box with a sign.

She then turned around and walked over to the doorway and tried to leave. However, the door would not open for her, even when she placed her hand on the security panel.

"MUTHUR?"

"Yes, Daniels?"

The familiar sound of MUTHUR's voice made Daniels want to cry in relief, but she restrained herself. She wasn't out of the woods yet.

"MUTHUR, can you please open the door?"

"I'm sorry, Daniels. I'm afraid I can't do that."

Daniels felt a shriek bubble up inside her, but she took a deep breathe and reminded herself that MUTHUR wasn't to blame for her situation.

"Why can't you open the door, MUTHUR?" Daniels asked, after taking another deep breathe.

"David has ordered that you remain in your room while he works."

Daniels felt a sharp pain in her chest, almost as though she had been infected with one of David's abominations. She laughed. For all she knew, David _had_ infected her with one of his monstrosities while she was unconscious. Her laughter transformed into gasping breaths.

"Oh G-d, how am I going to get out of this?" She thought as the pain in her chest worsened. She braced herself against the nearby desk and breathed rapidly.

Fearful that she was becoming hysterical again, Daniels picked up Shaw's journal and sat down in the bed. In a sad imitation of a hug, she pulled the comforter around her  and began to read.

* * *

  **April... 26th(?), 2094 A.D.**

_We have made good progress toward to the Engineer's home world. At least, that's what David tells me. In truth, I have no idea if we are any closer to the home of our creators than we were when we set off from LV-223, but I am forced to trust David as only he can understand the Engineer's strange language._

_But that doesn't mean I've forgotten what he's done._

_I know we're supposed to forgive those who trespass against us, but… fuck! I miss Charlie. He could be a bit dense at times, yes, but he never intended to be cruel. On the other hand, David may have had no choice but to follow Weyland's orders, but sometimes I feel like he enjoyed using Charlie as his personal lab rat._

_Of course, if David can enjoy hurting others, then he must be capable of feeling, and Weyland assured us that David could not feel. Then again, Weyland also assured us that he was dead..._

_...but the way Weyland had treated him, calling David his son, then saying he had no soul. Surely, no sentient creature could tolerate that sort of treatment for long. Moreso, David was operational for the two years we were in hypersleep. If he was capable of feeling, I’m certain the isolation would've affected him!_

_Regardless, I refuse to even consider entering hypersleep until I’m certain that David can be trusted to not use me in some sort of sick experiment like he used Charlie. It surprises me that he hasn’t asked for his head to be reattached yet. David doesn’t strike me as the sort to—_

_I better wrap this up. David is calling for me, and it might be important._

* * *

Daniels closed the journal. She stared ahead and thought about Shaw, trapped alone on some alien craft with the same monster who had captured Daniels. She didn't doubt for a second that David had enjoyed every minute of Charlie's murder, whoever the hell that was. At least, Shaw seemed to care for him or her.

Worse yet, Shaw wasn't even heading home, but rather towards some alien world where she would find the...Engineers? Whatever _that’s_ supposed to mean...

The sound of the door sliding open shook Daniels from her contemplation. She watched as David strolled through the entryway with a syringe in his hand.

She hissed, "Stay away from me!" and crawled back toward the wall.

David's lips curved upward but he did not smile. "MUTHUR informed me that you were having another panic attack, so I abandoned my work and rushed here to administer another dosage of sedative. However,” he scanned her huddled form, "it appears that you won't being need it. Pity. Hopefully, Experiment #42069 won't be ruined by this unnecessary interruption."

Daniels snarled at him, "Fuck you!"

Although his expression remained static, David somehow shed his affable cloak to reveal the predator within.

He stalked over to the bed, "Well, if you insist..."

"Wait!" Daniels shouted.

David froze. Daniels wanted to shudder under the weight of his stare.

Instead, she asked, "Why didn't Shaw want to go home?"

David blinked.

When he saw the journal Daniels was clutching tight to her chest, his face was engulfed by a gloating smirk, "Elisabeth? She wanted to meet her maker, and I simply obliged her."

Shaking with rage, Daniels lunged at David, screaming, "How dare you— How dare you claim to love her, you— you— murderer!"

David flinched, and Daniel's bloodlust was momentarily eased. Before she could continue her onslaught, however, David grabbed her shoulder. Daniels struggled against his grip, but David was stronger than any human, and she remained within his grasp.

However, Daniels ceased fighting when she heard David say, "You're right."

Daniels gaped at him and tried to speak, but she found that language had abandoned her.

"Elisabeth did want to meet her creators. She said that she needed to know why they wanted to destroy their own creation," David fell silent. Tears gathered in his eyes, and he continued his story in a soft, low tone.

"I never understood her. After all, what creator doesn't despise its creation? Mine certainly did. Weyland always resented my immortality, yet he was the own who made me this way." David scoffed. "He had only himself to blame."

"She was searching for the Engineers?"

David did not reply, and Daniels wondered if he had forgotten who he was with. She watched as David swallowed his sorrow and wiped the tears from his eyes.

He donned his affable cloak once more. "Now, unless you have any other questions, I must return to my work."

He spun around, but Daniels spoke before he could leave.

"Yeah, why is your—" she struggled to think of a term for his abominations that wouldn't insult him, "—your child called Nietzsche?"

David smiled at her, and his eyes smiled too. Daniels thought that, for the first time, he reminded her of Walter. His answer, however, did not.

"Because those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear to music," and, with that, he left.

The door shut firmly behind him.

A moment later, Daniels shouted, "What the fuck?"

Her gaze turned toward the journal now resting on the bed. Shaw hadn't survived David, but perhaps she could still help Daniels get out of his grasp alive...

A plan began to coalesce in Daniels's mind. Maybe Shaw's journal could provide Daniels some insight into David's psyche—help her hear the music, so to speak. She picked the journal up and began to read, not stopping until David brought her a meal and ordered her to get some rest, threatening to take away his gift if she didn't.

Then, Daniels slept and dreamed of a woman who had a halo of bright red hair and a heart full of hope.

* * *

The Greeks say Pandora opened her jar and unleashed suffering into the world of mankind. However, most forget to mention that at the bottom of the jar was _elpis_ , hope, who alone remained. The men who remember _elpis_ debate whether hope was a blessing or a curse, but they do not realize that hope was never meant for them. No, hope chose not to enter the world of mankind, but rather to remain with Pandora, the first woman, and with all her descendants.

Never forget that a world without women is a world without hope.

**Author's Note:**

> “Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man.” –Friedrich Nietzsche


End file.
